As man hath caused a blemish...

Capn_Davy_Jones_Lover - um ok ^_^ And don't worry there *is* more smut ahoy in a couple of chapters time...or at least that's what I've planned ^_^

Cassiopiea - Hee ^_^

Hollilia - (awesome name you've got going on for a start) So glad you enjoyed it wot ! ^_^

Gambit_gurl_isis - that was my evil plot from the beginning *Sings* getting to know yooou, getting to know all about yoooou.


Unexpected Guests

I woke up warm and content and hungry. There was a heavy weight pinning my legs to a soft bed – well it felt soft after months (years? I don’t know) of sleeping wherever I could. There was the soft press of…something…many, gentle, slightly cool some things actually, pressing against my back. I frowned into the pillow my face was smooshed into, trying to figure out what the heck it was. I winced as I shifted, remembering the previous night and smiled. It was Davy Jones behind me, tracing patterns over my back. I lay still, trying to fight off the urge to go back to sleep and figure out what he was doing exactly,

“Sir, are you counting the scars the lash left?” I asked, my tone still rough and sleepy but about three steps from giggling,

“Fourteen” He murmured behind me, his voice soft but growly…loving, loving, LOVING his voice…aaaah shut up. “You’ve got fourteen scars…” Was that a protective burr curling into his voice there?

“What’s one extra in the long run?” I asked, cuddling the pillow to me and writhing lazily under the gentle touch of his tentacles, grinning a little as that sentence formed in my head. Weird or what. And to think, a few short months ago the most I’d got to worry about was my end of term exams and getting a job, now I was sharing the bed of a mass murdering, probably insane, usually cruel, mythical pirate captain…how fricken lucky am I?

“You don’t care?”

“It hurt at the time, it doesn’t now and it probably taught me to think before acting” I shrugged, wriggling back against him so I was flush against his body, “could have probably done without the screaming though” I yawned. A kiss was pressed to the hinge of my jaw from behind,

“Very pretty screaming it was too” He whispered darkly, right into my ear as his hand skimmed over my hip and thigh, coming to rest in between my legs but not *quite* where I wanted it,

“Trained singer” I replied a little breathlessly, shifting restlessly as the long tentacle finger traced lazy circles on my stomach...bastard tease,

“Sing for me” He demanded gently. I laughed softly and rolled over to face him, snuggling into the circle of his arms quite happily thank you very much,

“I said trained, not that I was any good” I teased him a little. He smiled at me, rolling onto his back and taking me with him. The tentacles of his beard fell away revealing the hard muscles of his chest, the scars that criss-crossed it. I was particularly fond of a certain scar that ran in a clean curve from his right shoulder to his belly button (yep, that’s right folks Davy Jones still has a belly button – oh and he’s tickly on the bottoms of his feet and the back of his knees…don’t ask how I know that) but was concerned by the jagged looking scar over his heart, it looked fresh. It’d take months for me to realise that the wound would never fully heal. I peppered my favourite scar with kisses and began to hum a tune that had popped into my head…apparently my vocal chords are as suicidal as my mouth,

“What is that annoyingly cheerful tune?” He asked, lifting my chin to look at me with a raised brow. I blushed a little but grinned at the absurdity of it,

“A song” I replied, wondering how far he’d let me push – ah, that far apparently. He lifted a leg in between my own, pinning me in place with a hand at the small of my back, his fingers pressing lightly against my extremely sensitive ribs, “its by a group called Aqua, it’s called, um” The blush cut me off again and I realised how blatantly stupid it was,

“Never heard of a song called ‘Um’ before” He replied, obviously enjoying watching my embarrassment, eyes twinkling a little as he did so,

“It’s called Dr Jones alright?” I said lifting my chin off his hand so I could hide my face against his chest, it was silly and stupid I know but it was the only one I could think of with his name in. The chest beneath my face bounced as he chuckled, a deep, dirty sound and I risked a peek upwards to see him grinning at me. The claw moved off my lower back as he shifted to put his hands behind his head,

“If you insist on humming, hum something a little less” He stated, closing his eyes with a sigh that was…happy? Content? Damn, I wished he was easier to read,

“Less what?”
“Just less” I laughed again,

“Day-vee, Day-vee give me your answer doooo, I’m half cray-zee all for the love of yooou-” His hand covered my mouth and we trailed off into laughing silence, my fingers absently trailing closer to the scar over his heart. I began to hum the dark little lullaby he played on good days and promptly stopped – nearly choking myself by the way – when I felt every muscle in his body tense,

“D-“

“Not that”

“Why not?” I asked. He opened his eyes and looked down at me for a long moment with an unreadable expression before I was practically shoved off him and he rolled out of bed,

“Just not that one” I watched him dress, the lines of his body made sharp through how tense he was,

“You’re gonna have to tell me at some point you know” I murmured, sitting up, clutching the ragged sheet to me as I did so. I tried to ignore the sight of my leg against the sheet. Think thick black and white bands of scales, all over. It was utterly weird to see…so foreign. So I ignored it as best I could,

“Have too?” He asked, scowling as he turned round, buckling his belt already. If not for the sight of a shirtless Davy Jones looming over me (still butt naked bar a sheet in the bed) I probably would have had the sense to be afraid, as it was I opened my mouth – fortunately fate intervened and someone knocked on the door,

“Don’t!” My plea fell on deaf ears as Davy yanked the door open and I barely had time before Rawlings and Wiggs all but fell into the room, both of them looking at the Captain with wide worried eyes,

“Well? What business brings you here at such an hour?” The Captain snapped. He really was the Captain now. It was strange, almost as soon as the door had opened he’d…changed…it was as if I’d lost the man that had slept beside me in the night had disappeared in a puff of bad humour. I glanced out the cabin window – one of the few places that still had glass by the way – to see that to my utter surprise it was still dark outside,

“We’ve – there’s a bit of a – Collins said to come and fetch you, sir” Rawlings blundered his way through the words. It wasn’t at all fair really. Rawlings seemed to be really clever but whenever he got flustered his powers of speech went through the window. The Captain grunted, buttoning up his shirt and throwing on his coat,

“Under the table” I called out, drawing the attention of all three of them. Jones only looked at me briefly as he retrieved his hat before straightening out, every inch the pirate captain once more…a small smirk formed on my lips as I watched him leave before my gaze was caught by the two grinning crewmen who still stood in the room,

“What?” I snapped, leaning over the edge of the bed, hunting for some clothes I found a stash of Jones’ clothes beneath the bed (of course, where else are clothes to be kept?). A spare shirt and breeches which I wriggled into underneath the sheets whilst Rawlings and Wiggs did the body guard thing, backs turned and facing the door,

“Methinks the Captain is starting to feel more for his so called cabin boy than is strictly professional” Wiggs said in a theatrical whisper as I struggled into my boots…theatrical whisper here meaning that people

“By the way she’s walking I’d say the Captain was more than feeling the cabin boy” Rawlings added, almost under his breath,

“Oh aye” I snapped irritable, hiding behind my blush as I stamped my foot, trying to get my blasted boot to stay on before tying the laces good and tight, “you two are a real comedy duo” I grumbled, finally getting it on and standing up. I pinned up the breeches so I could walk in them without tripping up and shoved past the pair to the door. Or at least, I tried too. I looked down to see Rawlings hand on my arm and felt a fission of fear, my mind slinking back to Pritchett all of is own accord,

“He…you’re…there isn’t, I mean-“

“What he’s trying to say is are you alright?” Wiggs asked. I looked up at the both of them and was really quite touched to see the mild hints of concern in their faces,

“I’m fine, really” I replied, tugging my arm away,

“So…no beating the captain up then?” Rawlings teased,

“I’d like to see you try” I shook my head with a grin, pushing out onto deck and stopping. Or rather, I would have stopped had Rawlings and Wiggs not collided with me. As it was I collided with the back of the crowd that had half gathered on deck. It’s times like this I really hate being short. I elbowed the nearest man, “what’s happening?”

“She’s found us” I was told that useful little snippet of information before he turned away. I sighed heavily and made my way over to the ladder that led up to the helm. I climbed up onto the third step in order to see what was happening. There was a woman standing proud with her back to the sea, Davy Jones stood a little way in front of her and both of them surrounded by a circle of crewmen,

“-after all dese years” The woman spoke with a thick Jamaican accent, her voice smooth and rich, slightly slurred…beautiful…I suddenly felt awkward,

“What business have you aboard my ship, Tia Dalma?” Davy barked at her. I grinned at that, you tell her who’s boss Captain,

“Ya want we should conduct business in front of ya crew, Davy Jones?” She asked with a smile that was all seduction. Jones swayed slightly as if hit, steadying himself by taking a step back, peg leg ‘thunk’-ing heavily into the deck. There was nothing but the boom of the sails and the lull of the sea for a few moments,

“Spyce!” He yelled of a sudden, searching for me. I practically dived off the ladder, shoving myself a path through crewmen to him,

“Sir?” I looked right at him, trying not to notice the woman despite bursting with curiosity, who the hell was she and how the hell had she got on board?

“Rum, in my cabin and you’ve got a deck to swab” A bucket was shoved into my hands and I watched him limp off, his broad form hiding the woman from the rest of us. I wasn’t the only one on deck watching but I was the only one who handed my bucket on and stood on tip toe to look into the cabin window. This woman. This exquisitely beautiful, dark skinned, sexy, fabulously dressed female, sashayed over to the captain - my captain damn it – and straddled his waist as he sat in the chair beside his desk. Surge of overwhelming hatred and jealousy for this woman? Yes I rather think so. I tried to shove aside my jealousy, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene and think. He’d given me orders. Scrub the deck…that meant he wanted me out of the way. Why? What for? Something cold and smooth was pressed into my hand and I looked up at Wiggs as I clasped the neck of the large bottle. He handed two silver goblets – miraculously untarnished by the ocean,

“Go on, before curiosity eats you alive” He nodded to the Captains door. I smiled at him,

“I owe you” I replied,

“You bet your ass you do” He turned away, back to his own duties. I tapped on the door, remembering my manners considering the … guest … inside. They both looked up as I walked in. Some time between looking through the window and talking to Wiggs, the woman had moved off my Captain (my Captain? Wow, I didn’t realise I was that possessive) which was definitely a good thing. The silence was deafening as I set the rum and goblets on the table, I just knew I’d walked in on a really important conversation. I shot Jones a questioning look but he merely looked back at me blankly, I opened my mouth to ask a question but he shook his head sharply, frowning a little. He glanced up just as the sound of rustling skirts reached my ears. I turned to look up at the woman just as she reached out to me. Long, elegant fingers curled around my chin and jaw, her little finger pushing into my pulse,

“Who are you?” She asked me, her voice slow and steady,

“Spyce” I said, trying to pull away but unable too, “Cabin boy” She laughed, low and soft and wicked, dark eyes sparkling like onyx,

Ya ain’t any kinda boy, child” She said, looking at me with narrowed eyes, her hand still on my chin, turning my face this way and that…my god she was strong,

“She’s no one, just a deck hand, she doesn’t matter in this leave her out of it” He said, the sharpness in his tone cutting so hard that I wanted to flinch back. Ouch oh no Davy gimmie that knife so I can stab myself in the back rather than having you do it,

“Davy Jones, ya talkin’ too much nonsense, be quiet. How can she mean nothin’ yet ya want her out dis room so bad?” She asked in a voice somewhere between irritation and amusement. She waved a hand dripping with ancient gold, rings and bracelets, and the Captain froze. Literally. The goblet half way to his mouth and an ever so slightly worried scowl in place. I froze in the seat too, my heart going ten to the dozen at the display of power,

“What-“

“Don’t ask de question unless ya really wan’ know” She warned firmly as she released me, sitting in an empty chair and looking for all the world like an Empress,

“Alright I’ll start with an easy one” I said, surreptitiously reaching in my pocket to see if my little knife was still there…just in case of course and trying to figure out if it’d be effective against her. I didn’t really want to poke her a bit for what she’d done…of course not, “who the hell are you?”